


Fill Me Up (Before You Go-Go)

by orphan_account



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Supernatural
Genre: 2P, Academy Era, Alternate Universe - Celebrity, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Movie Fusion, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Ask Meme Fills, Costume Parties & Masquerades, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, First Meetings, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Reader-Insert, Romance, Singer Dean, Valentine's Day, Weddings, YouTuber Dean, soul mates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-22
Updated: 2015-08-16
Packaged: 2018-03-14 12:16:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 17,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3410306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Collection of ask meme fills from my tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Behind the Mask

**Author's Note:**

> ****Marked complete but will be added to if/whenever I fill more requests.****
> 
>  
> 
> Tags/rating may change as prompts are added. Warnings, if any, will be found on each individual chapter.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Masquerade balls have never been Elizaveta's favorite thing. PruHun, Masquerade AU.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [aph-preussen](http://aph-preussen.tumblr.com) submitted: "pruhun + 34 (I don't know if you like pruhun right now. I know that you love pruaus, so if you don't want to do it, it's ok)"
>
>> 34\. met at masquerade au

Elizaveta glanced around the grand ballroom, the fan in her hand moving the air around her as she hoped to generate a cool breeze in vain. It was crowded tonight, bodies pressed shoulder to shoulder as they mingled, and it didn’t help that she had to be wearing the stupid mask that had been insisted on in the invitation. It was gaudy, sequined in bright golds, with long black feathers on the right, matching the jade green ballgown her mother had chosen for her, and had been a gift from the host as enticement to attend.

It was official: Lord Edelstein was a presumptuous piece of filth, but she adored him dearly. 

Sighing to herself and gathering her skirts, the Hungarian Countess rose from the chaise she’d been draped over and made her way from the ladies’ lounge corner out into the mass, her skirt swaying as she maneuvered around the other guests. Her father and mother were among those dancing to the waltzes played by the Edelstein’s private orchestra, and she’d seen the young Countess Lilli, here with her brother, with her governess Natalya, but that had been going on an hour ago. 

"Champagne, my lady?" 

Turning to the voice, Elizaveta found it belonged to one of the servants; he was as tall as the Lord of the house, with skin so fair it was like freshly fallen snow, and hair to match behind the simple black mask all servants had. He was new, she thought, because she hadn’t seen someone so… ethereal. 

"You’re new here, aren’t you?" she asked, eyes narrowing as she took one of the offered flutes. "I’ve not seen you before." 

The servant chuckled, and it was like a snake’s hiss. “You make a habit of memorizing future servants, my lady?” 

One of her eyebrows quirked. “‘Future servants’?” she inquired, sipping the drink. His voice carried an accent similar to the Edelsteins, but less polished, rougher.

"Everyone’s saying the Lord plans to propose tonight. Choose a wife, y’know?" 

"Oh!" She snorted, an unbecoming sound, her mother would say, but the servant’s lips twitched at the sound, and she found she liked the smirk. "Oh, no, I’m only a friend," she said, waving a hand. She downed another gulp of the blessedly cool champagne; it must have been on ice. "He couldn’t put up with me, anyway. We’ve known each other too long." 

He shrugged, tucking his empty tray under his arm. He wore the common uniform of all Edelstein servants: white shirt and black waistcoat, with black trousers. His tie was red, the one allowance they’d been given for the party. 

"Too bad. But I suppose a beautiful lady like yourself deserves someone who can really appreciate it." His eyes, a shocking red behind the mask, now that she looked, travelled over her, and he gave her a bright smile as their eyes met again. "Lord _Princezzin_  is too in love with his piano, anyway.” 

Bold, she thought, and laughed as she finished the drink. “Roderich must have picked you for your charming attitude. What’s your name?” 

The servant snickered, taking her glass. “They call me Gilbert, my lady.” He bowed low, and when he looked back up, she swore he winked at her. “You may call me anything you like.” 

With that, she watched him walk away, a smile on her lips behind the fan as she turned to face the crowded room again.


	2. Color My World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In a black and white world, Gilbert's favorite color is amethyst purple. PruAus, Soul Mate AU.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous submitted: "PruAus, 1, please!"
>
>> 1\. soul mate au
> 
>   
> "Black/White to Color" trope

“ _Bruder,_  we’re going to be late!”

Gilbert glanced over his shoulder to his door, making a face. “You can’t rush awesomeness!” he called back, turning back to his mirror. “Give me five!”

Footsteps sounded in the hallway, and his brother was at his door, arms crossed over his chest. “We don’t  _have_ five, Gilbert. Feliciano expects us there at seven.”

Gilbert sighed, running a hand through his pale hair that was as white as his skin. From what he’d been told by people who could actually see color, yes, he was actually that pale; albinism, they said. It was why Ludwig looked just a shade of grey darker, because he could actually tan. His hair was blond, too.

Not that “blond” or “tan” meant anything to him. Not like he knew what “color” was.

Huffing a breath, Gilbert turned to face his little (well, younger) brother, smirking. “You’re so wrapped around his finger, West!” he cackled, grabbing his jacket as he followed him out of his room. “You’re so whipped!”

West glared at him as they exited the small apartment, avoiding the stacked boxes of things his brother was packing up for his move. Now that he’d found his soul mate, Ludwig and Feliciano were moving in together, as most did. They were hosting an open house party for friends and family, in celebration of the new happy couple, and Feli had said he had a friend he really wanted to introduce to Gilbert.

Really, Gilbert was just going to humor them. It was… hard, being one of the only ones left in his group of friends that hadn’t found his soul mate. It seemed that in the past few years, everyone had found the person they were meant to be with, and he was kinda jealous. But Feli had insisted his friend still had not found his own soul mate, and – because Gilbert just absolutely adored Feli, he was so bubbly, and West had given him the “do what he says or suffer the consequences” look – he’d agreed to go.

The smile on their faces had totally been worth it.

The new house was only about twenty minutes from the apartment, and they were greeted by a ball of energy when they arrived, Feli chatting on high-speed about how everyone was there now and how happy he was and  _oh, we have so much food, Ludwig, let’s eat!_  Gilbert snickered as he followed them in, heading immediately for the living room where his bestest of best friends were seated and talking.

“Ah,  _mon ami!_ ” Francis greeted, standing up to embrace him. He tossed his hair out of his face, the color a medium grey against his light grey skin. “Glad you could make it, Gil!”

“Of course I did!” he laughed, clapping a hand to Antonio’s shoulder as the Spaniard smiled up at him from the loveseat. “West woulda dragged me out by my ankles anyway. Besides, Feli says he’s got a friend I should meet.”

“Ah.” Francis nodded, sitting back down and Gilbert flopped down beside him, reaching into the cooler by the sofa for a beer. “Yes, he did mention something about that, though I don’t know if the friend is here yet. How have you been? We’ve hardly seen you at all recently.”

Gilbert shrugged, taking a swig of the cheap beer and making a face. “Eugh, I shoulda brought my own. Ah, you know, just busy at the shop. Never fails that everyone and their grandma’s car breaks down this time of year, so it’s always full.”

“We’ve been busy, too!” Antonio said. “There are so many tourists this time of year – Lovi and I hardly get any time to ourselves!”

“I feel ya, man.” Gilbert took another swig, leaning back into the sofa. He made a mental note to visit Tonio and Lovi at their restaurant the next time he was in the city. “Hey, have you two set a date yet?” He waggled his eyebrows, and they laughed. The man had proposed almost a month ago, and nothing had been said of it since.

“Not yet,” Antonio shook his head, his dark curls (brown, not actually black) bouncing around his face. “I’ve left the decision up to Lovi, and you know how his is with making up his mind about things like that.”

Speaking of the devil, at that moment Lovino stalked into the room as if summoned, turning narrowed eyes on his fiancé. “Don’t talk about me when I’m not here,” he grouched, before turning to Gilbert. He pointed with the bottle of beer in his hand. “Feli told me to come get you. He wants you to meet Roderich.”

Standing from the sofa and setting his beer on the coffee table, absently noting the light grey water stains against the black wood, Gilbert followed the Italian into the kitchen. Ludwig was standing with Feliciano by the food, conversing with Liz, who was leaning against her gorgeous Belorussian model. With them, but standing slightly apart, was another man about his height, with dark hair that framed his face, one lone strand bouncing above his head. He wore glasses, thin and delicate, and a beauty mark rested right below his bottom lip, giving him an air of nobility and elegance, which was emphasized when he turned to face Gilbert as he approached.

“Oh, Gil! I’d like you to meet Roderich!” He registered Feliciano’s voice, but he was frozen in place. “He babysat me and Lovino as young kids for  _Nonno!_  Roderich, meet Gilbert, Ludwig’s older brother!”

No one could ever accurately describe what it was like when they saw color for the first time. Some said it was subtle, color bleeding in until it settled where it should be, natural and easy. Others said it was a sudden shock, a burst of light that settled into the colors and disoriented them with so much new information for the brain to process.

Gilbert felt light, as if he were floating lazily in a pool on a hot summer day, his skin warm as he soaked up the rays of the sun. Color seeped into the room, into Roderich, as if an artist had thrown paint on a canvas and let it spread; he’d seen that once, though the colors had been varying shades of black and grey. His hair was dark, but with a warm quality – brunet, not black. His skin was still lily white, with a hint of blush on his cheeks, and his eyes… Gilbert loved the color, cool and passionate at the same time, regal and powerful.

“Holy shit…” he breathed, unable to look away. The blush deepened on Roderich’s face, and he felt his mouth hanging open slightly. “What color are your eyes?”

Roderich blinked twice, quickly looking at the people watching them before back at Gilbert. “I’ve been told they’re amethyst,” he said. “Purple.”

“Amethyst.” Gilbert tried it out, then grinned. “I like it. Looks good on you.”

A small smile pulled up the corners of Roderich’s face, and he stepped forward, hand held out. “I’m Roderich Edelstein,” he introduced. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Gilbert Beilschmidt.” Gilbert took the slender hand, cool against his own, and nearly gasped at the rush of electricity in the skin-on-skin contact. It crackled between them, filling him with tingly warmth, and he smiled widely. “Pleasure is mine.”


	3. Haunted By You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Roderich managed to be convinced it would be a good idea to move from his family’s estate in seclusion to a small apartment in the inner city, no one had told him he’d have a roommate to go with it. PruAus, _Just Like Heaven_ AU.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous submitted: "uhh, prussia x austria for 30 or 41 please?? you don't have to if you don't want to, you're just one of my favorite writers for pruaus and i'd love it if you wrote some for me >.>"
>
>> 30\. tourist/knowledgeable local au // 41. ghost/living person au
> 
> A _Just Like Heaven_ AU
> 
> **Warning:** character death

When Roderich managed to be convinced it would be a good idea to move from his family’s estate in seclusion to a small apartment in the inner city, no one had told him he’d have a roommate to go with it. 

A ghost roommate. 

An  _annoyingly self-obsessed_  ghost roommate. 

That  _would not leave him alone._

"It’s a good thing we don’t have neighbors, Specs, ‘cause they’d never get any sleep." 

Roderich slammed his hands on his piano, flinching at the squawk of off-key notes and his rough treatment in his irritation. Pinching the bridge of his nose and exhaling a deep, long-suffering sigh, he turned on the piano bench to face into the living area. 

His unwanted freeloader (though it wasn’t as if he was eating or actually taking up space) was balancing on the top of his sofa, making faces and stretching in strange forms. The ghost smirked over at him. 

"Don’t you have  _anything_ else you could be doing?” Roderich asked, tone implying that whether he did or not, he needed to just  _go away._  ”I cannot concentrate with your inane commentary.” 

He hopped down from the back of the sofa, sprawling instead over it. “No can do, Priss,” he drawled, pulling at the string on his hoodie. “I’m stuck here ‘til I can figure out how to move on.” 

Another sigh, and Roderich turned back to his piano. They’d had this conversation before, of course; apparently, the reason he was stuck in the “in-between” was because he still had something to find, or accomplish. He couldn’t remember his life before, or even how he died, and had taken the stance that he’d simply spend his time doing as he pleased until he figured out what he needed to do. 

But it wasn’t as if he was bound to the room, or even the apartment. “Then can you _please_ just be quiet?” he pleaded, looking back at the ghost. “You know I’ll be able to finish practicing if you don’t interrupt every two minutes.”

"Hmmm…" he hummed, as if having to think about it. The smirk on his face only served to infuriate Roderich with its devilish, charming ease. 

” _Gilbert._ " 

The ghost laughed, holding his hands up in a gesture of peace and standing from the sofa. “I’m just messin’ with ya, Specs, don’t get your panties in a twist.” 

"I do  _not —”_

 _”_ Jeez,  _Princezzin,_ " Gilbert grinned, walking out of the room. "It’s an  _expression._  Also, I know what kinda underwear you have on, Priss.” Roderich felt his face redden as the ghost stuck his head back through the archway between the kitchen and living room, grin wolfish. “Nice red silk, little master~!”

His laugh echoed across the apartment as Roderich contemplated how badly he needed to get up and go get the score sheet he’d thrown at his incorporeal roommate. 

* * *

"I can’t do this, Liz." Roderich sounded desperate as he sat with his best friend, head in his hands, at the corner café Gilbert had recommended the first week they’d began sharing a home. "He’s driving me mad." 

Liz laid a hand on his arm, and he looked into her patronizing,  _you-need-to-get-over-yourself_  gaze. “Sweetie,” she said, “maybe this is what you need: someone who doesn’t take any of your ‘I’m better than you’ bullshit and is not me. When was the last time you made a friend?” 

"He’s not my  _friend,_ " Roderich scoffed, looking down at his warm cocoa. "He’s a nuisance and a complete distraction, and he’s  _always_  talking about himself. Honestly, we were out at the museum just last week, and he managed to turn each of the tour guide’s lectures into an embellished tale of knights and sorcerers that were supposedly all Prussian, and he was a descendant of one of them. And when we went to see the Philharmonic, he chattered incessantly the  _entire_  time about famous flutists, which, admittedly, I could appreciate; did you know he was a flute player himself? But the time we —” 

” _Roderich._ " 

His mouth snapped shut, and he looked at Liz, who was smiling widely. 

"Are you even listening to yourself?" she asked, giggling. "You sound like the girl in pigtails pretending she doesn’t have a crush on the boy who keeps pulling them. This is fantastic!" 

Roderich gaped at her, aghast. “ _No,_ it is  _not_ 'fantastic'!” he denied vehemently. “He's disrupting my life, and he  _won’t go away._ " 

"He’s showing you how to live, is what he’s doing," she said, taking the last sip of her drink and standing. "He likes you, sweetie, and he wants you to know what fun is." She paused, smiling down at him softly. "Maybe he isn’t the only one who has something he needs to figure out." 

Roderich sat, dumbfounded, as she pressed a kiss to his forehead and walked out of the café, and remained that way for a long moment. 

It wasn’t as if having Gilbert around was the worst that’d ever happened. In fact, if he admitted to himself, he’d had more fun living with the ghost than he’d had in all his time with his family. Gilbert liked to pester him until he agreed to go out, be dragged around and shown the different places of the city Gilbert had grown up in, and Roderich had actually found himself enjoying it all. He enjoyed spending time with the lonely ghost. 

As he thought about it, he realized Gilbert was actually the only one, besides Elizaveta, that put up with him of his own choice; the ghost didn’t  _have_ to spend all his time lounging around the apartment, listening to Roderich complain at him about him, didn’t have to spend hours listening to Roderich play piano and joke about how great his own flute skills were. 

He didn’t have to be around Roderich  _at all,_  and yet he never went away. 

And, as crazy as it was, Roderich didn’t want him to leave anymore. 

Smiling, Roderich stood and tossed his unfinished drink in the trash on his way out into the chilly afternoon air, wrapping his scarf around his face tighter as he headed down the street towards his home. 

* * *

He knew something was wrong the moment he walked inside the apartment. 

It was quiet, which wasn’t unusual, but normally it never lasted long before Gilbert would pop into the room, grinning and immediately telling him about his day, whether Roderich wanted to hear it or not. 

Roderich shrugged out of his coat, slipping out of his shoes and walking into the living room, seeing the ghost sitting on the sofa, seemingly lost in thought as he stared at his hands. 

"Gilbert?" he called, walking towards the sofa. "Are you alright?" 

"It’s weird when you see yourself, your tangible body, after almost five months of believing you were dead," Gilbert said, ignoring the question. "Just found out." 

"What are you talking about?" 

Gilbert looked up at him, giving him a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I remembered something, from my life. My younger brother.” 

Roderich sat carefully by him on the sofa, watching with curious eyes. “Younger brother?” 

"Yup," he nodded. His smile looked more real. "His name’s Ludwig Beilschmidt, and he lives across town." 

The name sounded familiar for some reason, and Roderich’s eyes widened. “Ludwig? The same Ludwig that’s dating Feliciano Vargas?” 

Gilbert looked at him with a quirked eyebrow. “You know him?” 

Roderich shook his head. “Not Ludwig, but Feliciano. I babysat for his and his brother’s grandfather when I was a teenager.” He smiled wryly. “Mother thought it would be a ‘terrific learning experience’.” 

Gilbert snorted, leaning back into the sofa. “Yeah, that’s him. So, I went to visit him, today. And I found out his older brother is currently in the hospital, in a coma.” 

The blood drained from his face, and Roderich wanted so badly to reach out to the ghost, to comfort him. “I’m so sorry, Gilbert,” he finally said, and it sounded weak even to his ears. 

"Nothing you could’ve done, Specs." Gilbert shrugged. "They’re taking me off life-support in about fifteen minutes." 

Roderich made a sound he wasn’t aware he could make, a small noise between a whimper and protest. Gilbert looked over at him, face torn. 

"Hey, hey," he soothed, hand coming to hover at the edge of Roderich’s face. "Don’t worry about me, little master. I’ll be alright." He smiled softly, and his eyes shimmered, the unique red color burning into his very being. "I figured out what I needed." 

Taking a deep breath, Gilbert leaned forward, and Roderich felt a phantom warmth press against his lips, filling his chest and veins and limbs and everywhere with what could only be described as pure joy. He only wished he could press back, slide his hands into Gilbert’s hair and wrap them around him tightly and just hold on forever. 

The warm wetness of tears travelled down his cheeks as Gilbert pulled back, pressing one more phantom kiss to his forehead. 

"I’ll be waiting for you, little master," he whispered, and when Roderich opened his eyes again, he was gone. 

Roderich sat for a long moment, just breathing slowly before he stood, going over to his piano and sitting there, hands hovering over the keys. Then, he began playing, softly and gently, smiling as the notes filled the air. 

When Roderich managed to be convinced it would be a good idea to move from his family’s estate in seclusion to a small apartment in the inner city, no one had told him he’d have a roommate. 

A ghost roommate. 

One he’d fall completely in love with. 


	4. Run (In)To You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tino's been staring at the intimidating(ly hot) man that sits at the corner table, every day, as soon as the café opens. Lukas says he just needs to introduce himself already. Lukas can shut up. SuFin, Coffee Shop AU.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous submitted: "Sufin 24?"
>
>> 24\. literally bumping into each other au

Tino sighed to himself as he leaned against the counter, watching the corner table at the other side of the small café. Or, more specifically, the man sitting there. 

He’d been there since opening time, like always, walking through the door just as the first batch of coffee was brewed fresh. Light snow dusted his coat and hair, and he brushed it off as he walked to the counter, setting down enough money to cover his usual. Tino, of course, had it ready and waiting, smiling cheerfully as he handed it over. The man thanked him with his normal gruff grunt and took his seat at the same table in the same corner, pulling out a newspaper and reading it as the shop slowly became more and more busy. 

It was now almost lunch, and Tino had a plate of danishes sitting beside his elbow, waiting for the man to come up and get them like he always did. 

"You should leave your number on his napkin," Lukas said beside him, and Tino jumped guiltily as his Norwegian coworker threw his bored gaze to the corner of the café. "Or at least introduce yourself." 

Tino shook his head, turning to clean off one of the espresso machines. “Don’t be silly, Lukas! He’s much too intimidating!” 

And he really sort of was. The man was tall, with a study build that spoke of hard manual labor and heavy lifting; Tino felt positively tiny and soft in comparison. His expression was always as blank as Lukas’, though where Lukas seemed bored, the man looked… well, “scary” was the only way Tino could describe it. 

Tino was sure the man didn’t mean it, as on occasion Tino had seen the man with the cutest little dog, a white ball of pure adorable fluff, and there was no way that anything so precious would be around someone who wasn’t just as sweet and kind. He figured it was just slightly unfortunate genetics, because the man was ever so handsome! 

"You’ve been staring at him for the last two months, Tino," Lukas reminded him, and Tino pouted. "I think it’s time you make a move." 

Tino simply shook his head, finishing with the machine and turning his attention back to the counter. The danishes were gone, and in their place was the money to cover them. Blinking, Tino looked over to the corner seat, and his shoulders slumped as he saw it was empty. Looking closer, however, Tino caught sight of a black rectangle still on the table. 

"Oh, dear! He forgot his briefcase!" Tino clucked his tongue as he ran out from behind the counter, heading to the table to retrieve the item before someone else could take it. 

He bit his lip as he considered whether to take his lunch early and attempt to track the man down, or to just leave it behind the counter in the Lost and Found and see if the man came back for it. It seemed important, and it would be a wonderful opportunity to introduce himself like Lukas suggested, but Tino shook with nerves as he thought about approaching the man to give it back. 

Sighing, he turned to take it back behind the counter and collided with a hard form, letting out an  _oof!_  as he lost his balance and nearly tumbled to the floor. Arms caught him, steadying him, and Tino smiled sheepishly. 

"Oh, I’m so sorry! I wasn’t watching where I was going!" He chuckled awkwardly to himself, looking up. "Are you alri—" 

The man looked down at him through his thin glasses, face impassive. His eyes were such a bright sea color, his hair as yellow as the afternoon sun. Tino’s voiced died off, and he felt his cheeks heat up rapidly. 

"Careful," the man said, gently easing Tino into an upright, standing position. He had a slight accent that Tino couldn’t quite place. "I came back for m’ stuff. Got halfway to work before I realized it was missing." 

His brain began working again, and Tino jumped as he remembered what he was holding. “Oh! O-Of course!” He held out the briefcase, smiling. “I noticed you left it and I was just bringing it to the Lost and Found! Didn’t want anyone to take it, you know? I guess it’s got all your work stuff in it, and that’s pretty important, so I was just making sure it didn’t get stolen or anything!” 

Tino bit his lip as he realized he was rambling, but the man just gently took his briefcase with an understanding nod. 

"Thanks," he said, but he didn’t move away and they stood together for a long moment in silence. 

Unable to take it any longer, Tino finally broke the awkward staring they were doing. “I’m Tino, by the way!” he said as cheerfully as he could manage. “I meant to introduce myself earlier, but I’m just so shy, and you’re really sort of intimidating because you look angry a lot, but you also seem so nice— I mean, I’ve seen you in here with your dog, and she’s just so cute, so you’ve got to be a nice person right? Oh, god, I’m rambling again, aren’t I? I don’t mean to, I promise, I just talk when I’m nervous! Lukas says I should be more aware of that, but I just can’t help it, you know? But you’re also really handsome, and I get nervous when I talk to attractive people, so I always just keep talking and embarrassing myself.” 

The man continued staring at him, and Tino wanted to hide his face in his embarrassment. He was so silly, thinking he could actually talk to this man! It didn’t help that he really was attractive up close. 

"Berwald," the man finally said, and Tino blinked up at him. "M’ name’s Berwald. And I think you’re pretty cute, too." 

Tino blushed, smiling ever so slightly. “R-Really?” 

He could be mistaken, but Tino was pretty sure Berwald was blushing too as he nodded. “And Hanatamago is m’ dog. I adopted her about half a year ago. I think she’d like you.” 

Tino laughed, feeling relief wash over him.  _He likes me too!_  “Well, I’d love to meet her sometime! I just adore dogs!” 

Berwald nodded again, checking his watch and frowning, which really was kinda scary. “Sorry, Tino. I have to go.” He paused, watching Tino with intense eyes. “Maybe we can go out for dinner sometime?” 

Tino nodded enthusiastically. “That sounds great! I get off at seven on weekdays, and five on Saturdays.” 

"Are ya busy this Saturday?" 

"Not at all!" Tino was nearly bouncing out of his shoes. "See you at six?" 

"Sounds good t’ me." Reaching into his coat pocket, Berwald took out a pen, grabbing a napkin from the table. He scrawled a series of numbers before handing it to Tino. "Text me your address and I’ll pick you up." 

Waving a quick goodbye as Berwald left, Tino sighed in content as he made his way back behind the counter. Lukas looked smug, and Tino slapped his shoulder lightly. 

"Oh, shut up!" 

Lukas rolled his eyes. “I didn’t say anything.” 

Tino shook his head, smiling at the next customer as he returned to work, already looking forward to the weekend. 


	5. Childhood Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alfred may have been a prince of Sandbox Kingdom, but he still needed his trusty wizard to help slay the dragons. USUK, kidfic, AU.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous submitted: "I don't know how long ago you posted the number AU thingy, or even if you're still doing it but if you are, usuk 2?"
>
>> 2\. childhood best friends au

Alfred set his plastic shovel aside, sand caked on his hands as he grinned triumphantly at the castle now sitting in front of him. It had four towers, and even a moat and drawbridge to protect it from invading thieves! He smoothed down a wall, patting the sand firmly into place. Matthew was carefully patting down the sand on the opposite side, building a wall around the castle for extra defense. 

"This is our kingdom, Mattie!" he exclaimed, standing and peering down at their work. "I’m Prince Alfred, protector! You can be Knight!" 

Matthew looked up at him with a small smile. “Okay!” He looked back at the castle, before asking, “Are there princesses?” 

Alfred scrunched his nose. “Ew. No. Girls aren’t allowed in our kingdom! Except for Mom, who’s the Queen!” He wasn’t about to tell the best cook in the world to stay out of his kingdom. 

"Are there wizards?" 

Alfred and Matthew both looked at the new voice that came from another little boy standing at the edge of the sandbox. He had blond hair like them, but green eyes and large, fuzzy-looking eyebrows. He was skinny and pale, twisting his hands together as he observed their creation. 

"Do you think we need wizards?" Matthew asked, standing from his crouch and brushing his knees off. 

The boy nodded. “Wizards control the magic in the kingdom,” he said, and Alfred thought he sounded funny, but a good funny. “They help knights fight dragons and evil sorcerers.” 

Alfred blinked, frowning. “What’s a sor-ser?” 

"Sorcerer," the boy pronounced. "They’re like wizards, but bad." He paused. "Well, I guess they could be good, if they used their magic properly. But usually they’re evil." 

Alfred hummed in thought before a wide smile spread on his face. “Okay! We could use a wizard, don’tcha think, Mattie?” Matthew nodded eagerly, and Alfred turned back to the boy. “I’m Alfred! This is my brother Mattie! What’s your name?” 

"Arthur." 

"Why do you sound so funny, Artie?" Alfred asked, pleased that he now had a name. Arthur scowled, crossing his arms. 

"I’m from England," he announced. "Everyone there sounds like I do. You two are the ones that sound strange." 

Alfred laughed. “Nice ta meetcha, Artie! Now c’mon!” He turned and picked his shovel up again, brandishing it in front of him. “We have dragons to fight and people to protect! Let’s go get those sor-sers, Mattie!” 

As it turned out, Arthur’s family had moved in just across the street from Alfred and Matthew. It was a common thing for the three to play together, whether at the park or in one another’s backyards. They were the Three Musketeers, always together, always having fun. 

.

The leaves on the trees were full of fire and gold, and the wind nipped at Alfred’s cheeks as he buried his face in his scarf. The bench he was sitting on was worn and creaky, squeaking loudly as another form sat down beside him. 

Smiling, Alfred wrapped an arm around the warm body, nuzzling into soft blond hair as he curled up into their shared heat. 

"I’m pretty sure I still have sand in some of my shoes," he commented, and he felt the chuckle of his boyfriend. 

"I’m sure you do," Arthur replied. He pressed more tightly against Alfred as the wind picked up. "We practically lived in the sandbox." 

"It was great times. Francis missed out." 

"Yes, he did, but Matthew was never as passionate about it as you, anyway." 

” _Us_ ,” Alfred corrected. “Never as passionate as  _us._ " 

Arthur leaned up, turning to press a light kiss to his chapped lips. “Us,” he agreed. 


	6. Instant Message

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of course the only friends Kilian can make are weird people on the internet. LadMugel, AU.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [centaurstentacle](http://centaurstentacle.tumblr.com) submitted: "ladmugel with 9?? :D"
>
>> 9\. meeting online au
> 
>   
> Kilian (lifeisARTislife84) - Kugelmugel  
> Elian (internetMEMEking) - Ladonia

**internetMEMEking**   _has started a conversation with you._

 **internetMEMEking:**  thts a rlly weird profile pic u have there   
**internetMEMEking:**  wat is it? o_O

Kilian looks from the laptop screen to his door, as if the message that had appeared in his chat box was for someone else. Well, that and the notification sound was really loud and Roderich had told him to get off the computer an hour and a half ago. 

Whatever. Rebellion is art, anyway. 

He drops his stylus, setting aside his tablet and saving his most current WIP as he pulls up the instant messaging app to reply. 

 **lifeisARTislife84:**  it’s art.

Because it is. 

 **internetMEMEking:**  dude it looks like a sphere. wat kinda art is tht??

 **lifeisARTislife84:**  it’s kugelmugel.

 **internetMEMEking:**  oh  
**internetMEMEking:**  wats kugelmugel ???

 **lifeisARTislife84:**  it’s art.

 **internetMEMEking:**  oooookkkaaaayy…. >_>  
**internetMEMEking:**  is it like a place or smthng? looks like a place

"Kilian Edelstein-Beilschmidt!" Roderich’s voice floats through his mostly closed door, and Kilian looks up over his laptop at his papa pushing his door open. He doesn’t look happy. 

Roderich crosses his arms, giving him a stern look from behind his glasses. “I thought I told you to go to bed. It’s a school night.” Another ping sounds from his computer, and Roderich’s eyes narrow. “Who are you talking to?” 

Kilian looks back at his screen, reading the latest message this “internetMEMEking” sent. 

 **internetMEMEking:**  wiki says its a micronation. thts cool. im from ladonia but i lived in sweden a while b4 we moved

"Um… I don’t know," Kilian replies, shrugging. "They just randomly messaged me." He pauses, giving his papa a pained look. "I don’t think he understands the beauty of art." 

Roderich stares at him for a long moment, before shaking his head with a fond scoff. “Well, you’ll have to teach him later. It’s late, and you need to be in bed.” He turns on his heel, hand on the doorknob and looking at Kilian over his shoulder. “Gilbert will take you to school in the morning. Be ready to go by eight.” 

Kilian watches him leave, closing the door softly behind himself, before turning back to his computer. Another two messages had appeared. 

 **internetMEMEking:**  r u frm kugelmugel?  
**internetMEMEking:**  is it evn possible 2 b frm kugelmugel? looks like its jst a big circle

 **lifeisARTislife84:**  my dads found me right by it, so i guess? i was young, i don’t remember much

 **internetMEMEking:**  thts cool. im adopted 2. ive got a older brother, but i dont like him much. hes kinda annoying =_=  
**internetMEMEking:**  do u have brothers/sisters?

 **lifeisARTislife84:**  no. only child.

 **internetMEMEking:**  cool.   
**internetMEMEking:**  im elian, btw. ur profile says were frm the same area. maybe we go 2 the same school? :D

 **lifeisARTislife84:**  kilian. i go to the private academy downtown. you?

 **internetMEMEking:**  nah, im in public school. >:/ ‘rents cant afford prissy schools with two kids and a dog.

 **lifeisARTislife84:**  my papa’s a priss according to my dad. he was raised with the austrian aristocracy, tho. dad teases him about it a lot.

"Little dude, he told you to go to bed." 

Kilian looks up at Gilbert standing at his door. “I know,” he replies, setting his laptop aside along with his forgotten tablet and stylus. “I was just… making a friend?” It sounds like a question, because he really isn’t sure what he should consider Elian now. 

He isn’t used to making “friends.” 

Several pings sound in a row, and Kilian looks back at his screen. 

 **internetMEMEking:**  is tht y ur n a private school?  
**internetMEMEking:**  not tht theres nythng wrong w/ private school.   
**internetMEMEking:**  i wanted 2 go 2 the academy 2 actually   
**internetMEMEking:**  theyve got a great computer engineering program  
**internetMEMEking:**  im pretty great with computers

 **lifeisARTislife84:**  yeah, i’m in the graphic design program. i love art. 

Kilian looks back at Gilbert, who’s watching him with a quirked eyebrow and a half-smirk. 

"Oh, really?" he teases, walking into the room. "This ‘friend’ must be pretty awesome to keep your attention for more than five seconds." 

"He’s…" Kilian trails off, biting his lip. "… interesting." 

"What’s his name?" 

"Elian. He says he’s from Ladonia but we live in the same area." 

Gilbert grins. “That’s great, little man. But you really should tell him that you need to go.” Kilian nods as his dad leans down to press a kiss to his head. “We gotta be up and kickin’ ass at the crack o’ dawn. Sweet dreams, Kili.” 

With a ruffle of his hair, Gilbert leaves the room, and Kilian sighs. He turns back to his laptop, pulling it into his lap. 

 **internetMEMEking:**  i can tell lol  
**internetMEMEking:**  hey so i gotta go but maybe we can talk 2moro??

 **lifeisARTislife84:**  yeah, sure. later.

Kilian signs out of the instant messaging app, closing down his laptop and gathering his things. He sets them back on his desk before slipping into his pyjamas and crawling back into bed. He stares into the dark room as he thinks about the random conversation, a certain anticipation creeping up as he muses on the promised contact. 

It’s actually kind of… exciting, this “making friends” business. 

Almost as exciting as art. 


	7. Wedding Day Blues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Days like this always seemed to remind Ludwig of how lonely he was. GerIta, AU.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous submitted: "Gerita 22 please~!"
>
>> 22\. two miserable people meeting at a wedding au

Ludwig stood off to the side of the room next to the refreshments table, trying to stay out of the way of all the guests. He felt self-conscious about attending the wedding of a couple he really didn’t know. Elizaveta, the bride, was more a friend of his brother’s than his, and the groom, a man named Vladimir, he didn’t know at all. In fact, he didn’t know most of the people in attendance. 

The reception was in full swing by this point, friends and family laughing and mingling. Gilbert was making a fool of himself across the room with the bride’s best man, who looked about as thrilled with that as Ludwig normally was. They both looked to be enjoying themselves, though, so Ludwig just chuckled and headed to the open bar. He ordered a beer and slid onto one of the stools, staring down at the wood of the bar top as he listened to the upbeat music playing from the speakers. 

It was events like these that reminded him how alone he was, reminded him how he didn’t have anyone but his dogs to share companionship with, reminded him how work-obsessed he was and how he never talked to anyone or made friends.

Reminded him how lonely he was. 

He took a swig of the beer, frowning at his thoughts. This was supposed to be a day of happiness and celebration, and he always managed to bring his mood down. 

“Are you here by yourself?” 

Ludwig looked up at the query, into the smiling face of a man leaning against the bar next to him. Copper hair fell around a tanned face and framed a set of large, amber eyes, a stray curl bouncing out to the left. The man was slight beneath his suit shirt, his jacket discarded long ago, no doubt. His jade green tie was loosened, and the top two buttons were undone, giving Ludwig a peek at a smooth chest and  _very_ distracting. 

Cheeks flushing with heat, Ludwig coughed, clearing his throat as he attempted to remember what he’d been asked. “Um... what?” 

The man laughed, sliding onto the stool next to Ludwig and signaling the bartender. “You’re very cute, you know,” he said, winking at Ludwig and leaning his chin on his hand. “I asked if you were here alone, or if you came with somebody!” 

His eyes travelled over Ludwig, lingering on his arms and chest, and Ludwig felt the heat in his cheeks spread elsewhere. “I have to admit,” he added, playful eyes meeting Ludwig’s again, “I’m hoping you came alone.” 

Finding his voice  _finally_ , Ludwig took another sip of his beer before setting it aside. “I, ah, I’m here with my brother, actually,” he managed, glancing back to the dance floor, searching out Gilbert. “He was invited by Elizaveta. I’m just his plus one.” 

“Oh, you’re Ludwig, right?” the man seemed to brighten at the revelation, his smile widening even further. “Gilbert talks about you all the time!” 

“Yes,” Ludwig replied slowly, eyebrows raised. “You know my brother?” 

“Yup!” He cut off when the bartender brought over his drink, thanking the man with a smile and wink before turning back to Ludwig. “I met him at one of Roderich’s concerts, actually. He babysat  _fratello_  and me when we were very little, you see, so we’ve known Rod and Liz forever!” 

Roderich was Elizaveta’s best friend, Ludwig knew, and he’d heard Gilbert talk about his music abilities frequently over the years, both in teasing and in admiration. He figured that was the man Gilbert was dancing and flirting with. 

He also knew Gilbert tended to talk about “his little Luddy”  _a lot,_  so it didn’t seem too out there for this stranger to know him. “Hm. I’ve never been to one of Roderich’s concerts,” he admitted, playing with his beer bottle. “I’m always too busy with work or school.” 

“That’s too bad.” The man gave him a sad smile. “Roderich’s really amazing! You’d enjoy it! Well, more than my brother does, definitely.” He giggled. “Though Lovino doesn’t enjoy anything, so that’s not saying much, really.” 

Ludwig gave him a confused look.” Your brother doesn’t enjoy anything?”  _That sounds sad._

“He likes to pretend he doesn’t.” The man shrugged. “He’s just always grumpy. We’ve all gotten used to it.” He looked out into the crowd for a moment, then pointed, urging Ludwig to look with him. “See the two dark haired men at the edge of the floor over there?” 

Ludwig squinted, and did indeed see two men, one slightly shorter than the other. They were holding each other close, swaying to the slow song playing, lost in a world all their own. 

“The man he’s dancing with is his fiancé, Toni,” the man said softly, a smile on his lips. “Lovi’s been with Antonio for almost seven years now and engaged for the last two. They’re getting married next summer.” 

The man’s tone had gentled to almost sad. Looking over, Ludwig saw a longing look in those amber eyes as the man watched his brother, and Ludwig felt a tug in his chest. He knew that look; it was the look of someone wishing they had someone to hold onto and dance with and laugh with and be with. 

It was a familiar feeling. 

They sat quietly for a while, watching the guests and wedding party start up a dance-off between the men and women. Ludwig was halfway through a second beer, and his new companion was sipping on a glass of wine. It was odd, but Ludwig couldn’t rid the feeling that the man sitting next to him was not meant to brood in silence, but to be laughing and smiling. It seemed... wrong.

As the dance-off came to an end and the calmer music started back up, Ludwig set down his beer and turned to his companion. He could feel his cheeks heating up again, but he cleared his throat and made himself look into those amber eyes when he asked, “So, um, would you like to dance?” 

The smile Ludwig received made him feel warm inside. 

“Of course!” The man jumped up from his seat, taking Ludwig’s hand in his own and dragging him out to the dance floor. 

Ludwig felt a chuckle pulled from him as they stood in the center of the floor, and he found it easy to rest his hands on the man’s waist as arms wrapped around his neck. He had to look down to look into the man’s eyes, being a little over a half-head taller. 

“You are extremely buff,” the man said as they swayed to the music. He sounded very appreciative, running a hand slowly up Ludwig’s arm from elbow to shoulder. He looked up and smiled flirtatiously. “I like it.” 

Ludwig blushed again and rolled his eyes. “I like to work out and stay in shape. It’s a stress relief.” 

“I know another great way to relieve stress.” 

He said it so casually Ludwig almost missed the suggestive glint in his eyes. The man just laughed at his embarrassment and pulled him closer, spinning them around. “You’re cute when you blush, Ludwig. I like you very much.” 

Ludwig managed a small smile of his own. “I have to say I like you very much as well.” 

They danced well into the night, stopping briefly for drinks as the sun set. They talked about their lives, families and jobs and hobbies and everything, trading stories and laughing and just enjoying the other’s company. Ludwig was sure he hadn’t smiled so much in a long time. 

“I should probably get him home,” Ludwig said, watching his brother hanging over his friends. He was cackling madly like he did when he was drunk, and Ludwig sighed, turning back to his companion and smiling. “I really enjoyed tonight. Thank you.” 

The man grinned, standing and grabbing his jacket as Ludwig did the same. “I did too, Ludwig,” he agreed. “I think we should do it again. Maybe without all the family around, though.” 

“I think that sounds wonderful.” 

Reaching into his pocket, Ludwig watched as the man produced a pen and grabbed his hand. He bent over it for a couple of seconds before releasing it and smiling up at Ludwig. 

“Call me and maybe we can meet for lunch or something.” He winked, capping his pen, and walked off, heading towards his brother, and Ludwig looked down at his hand. 

_Feliciano Vargas - xxx-xxxx  
xoxo_

Ludwig smiled. 

It was nice to not feel so lonely anymore. 

 


	8. Up A Tree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who would've thought you'd meet your best friend while stuck in a tree? 2p!North Italy x Reader, AU.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous submitted: "this is a little obscure sounding, sorry about that! but could you write number 2 (for the fanfic thing) with 2p!italy x reader? I know that's technically not a ship, but I love your writing so I just had to ask! Thanks!!"
>
>> 2\. childhood best friends au

The day you meet Luciano, you’re stuck up in a tree. 

It’s not the first time you’ve been stuck in a tree. The tall oaks that grow along the property line between your street of houses and the one behind it were practically put there for climbing, with branches perfectly spaced and at just the right heights. In the summer, you like to spend your days outdoors exploring and adventuring, and what better way than by ascending to the highest boughs of the biggest trees? 

This year is one such summer, and you’ve decided to make the most of your vacation before school starts back up again and you have to sit through nine months of the second grade. The sky is cloudless and blue, just perfect for playing outside. Mom is humming to herself in the kitchen, making your favorite for lunch: (preferred type of sandwich) sandwiches, and Dad is in the garage, fixing up the car and listening to the radio. You’re free to roam. 

It had seemed like a good idea at the time to take Allen’s dare to climb all the way to the top of the tree behind the Jones-Williams’ house. You’ve done it before and never had any trouble, but today just isn’t going how you wanted it. Now you’re nearly twenty feet up in the air, stuck between two branches and looking down at the laughing forms of Allen and Matt. 

You glare at them, shifting your legs because one of them is falling asleep. “Thanks a lot, stupid head!” you call down, and Allen just laughs harder. “This is all your fault!” 

“You’re the one that took the dare, (f/n)!” He can’t stop giggling, and Matt is just  _standing there_. “I didn’t make you climb the tree!” 

True, but you don’t care. You huff, tossing your hair out of your eyes; it’s getting long and needs a trim. 

“Are you going to help me down?” you ask after a minute of more laughing. It’s really uncomfortable in the tree. 

Allen pauses, tilting his head side to side as if in thought, before grinning evilly and turning on his heel. “Nah! We’re heading out to the lake now, and we can’t be late! C’mon, Matt!” 

You watch in disbelief as the brothers run off, leaving you in a  _tree._  A fudging  _tree._  

“Jerks!” you yell after them, then let out a sigh as you slump over the branch that’s keeping you up. Great. You’re stuck in a tree, and the only two people who even know you’re there have gone to the lake. 

Just fantastic. 

You’re up there another ten minutes or so before you hear the unmistakable sound of someone coming through the bushes. You’re other leg is falling asleep now, and you’ve got bark indents in your arms. You’re just happy to not be alone anymore. 

The boy that comes up to the tree is not one you’ve seen before. He looks a couple years older than you; he’s got red-brown hair with a curl that bounces beside his head, and his eyes are a startling shade of blood-red, brighter than Al’s. You figure he’s one of the new kids who moved into the house behind yours. 

“What are you doing up there?” he asks brightly, standing beneath you and tilting his head back to look up. 

You blink, shifting as much as you can to get feeling back into your body. “I’m stuck,” you answer, wiggling hopelessly to prove your statement. 

“Why’re you up there?” 

“I was dared.” 

“By those two boys who left?” The boy begins walking around the tree, looking at it closely. 

You nod before remembering you’re above him. “Yeah. I do this all the time.” You pause before adding, “Usually without the getting stuck part.” 

“Oh.” The boy stops, looking back up at you. “What’s your name?” 

“(f/n),” you tell him. “I live in the house right behind yours, I think. What’s your name?” 

“I’m Luciano!” He grins. “I moved here with  _Nonno_  and  _mia_   _sorella!”_

You remember seeing a new girl at the mall earlier that week, one with a curl just like Luciano’s, and you think she must be his sister. “It’s nice to meet you, Luciano.” 

“You too, (f/n)!” He pauses again, looking up at you with his head tilted in thought. “You need help getting down?” 

You feel your face flush in embarrassment, but nod anyway. “Yes, please.” 

“Be right back!” Luciano calls, and he runs off towards his house. You sigh in relief, and wait. 

Another ten minutes and Luciano returns with his sister. She looks about fifteen, with long, dark hair and a curl that goes the opposite way of Luciano’s. Her eyes are green like the leaves of the tree you’re in, and she’s chewing gum, looking up at you with a bored expression. 

“What the fuck do you expect me to do?” she asks, looking down at Luciano. 

“(f/n) needs help getting out of the tree!” Luciano says, looking up at you. “I need you to help me get (your preferred pronoun [him/her/them/etc.]) down!”

She rolls her eyes, folding her arms and blowing a bubble. It pops loudly. “Fine,” she finally relents, and she walks over to the tree. 

Luciano cheers and runs over as she bends down, stepping into her hands so she can lift him up. She grunts as he reaches for the lowest branches, pulling himself up into the tree. She stands below the tree and watches as he climbs towards you, and you smile as he reaches the branches you’re stuck between. 

“Thanks, Luciano,” you say. “I was scared I’d be here forever!” 

With Luciano’s help holding them apart, you manage to wiggle out from between the branches you fell between, free of the tree’s clutches. Carefully, you both make your way back down to the ground, and you smile gratefully at Luciano and his sister. 

“Thanks a lot,” you say again. “I thought I was a goner there.” 

“Don’t mention it,” Luciano’s sister says. She pops her gum once again and walks off, back to their house. 

Luciano smiles at you. “Don’t mind Lovina,” he says, walking with you as you head back home. “She’s like that with everyone.” 

“She seems pretty cool,” you say, entering your backyard. 

“She’s the best!” Luciano agrees. He stops at the edge of your yard, looking over his shoulder. “I’ve gotta go, (f/n)! I hear  _Nonno_ calling for me!” 

You nod, waving to him as he leaves. “See you around, Luciano!” 

When school starts back up, you find Luciano around the hallways and eat with him at lunch, playing together during recess and walking home together when the day is over. You hang out at his house and he hangs out at yours, and he becomes your best friend before you’re fully aware of it.

In middle school, you meet Lutz, Julchen’s younger brother, who is honestly really cool with his scar from a bike accident, and Lovina starts dating Santiago, who looks like he might have murdered someone but you can’t be sure.

In high school, a quiet boy named Kiku from Japan is added to your group and you start your training as an anime-obsessed weeaboo. Jean-Henri transfers from France, and he teaches you how to smoke without getting caught. 

Oliver still makes you all cupcakes for your birthdays and Anya, the Russian transfer, plays big sister to everyone. 

Allen and Matt are still annoying dickbags, and Luciano becomes protective of you when they mess with you (you’ll never forget the time he threatened them with disembowelment and nearly broke the door trying to get you out when they locked you in the janitor’s closet). 

You see them all as your family, and you grow up with them like they’re your brothers and sisters, hanging out and defacing public property. It’s an adventure, and you’ve never had so much fun. 

And to think: it all started because you were stuck in a tree. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full versions of character names used (in order of "appearance"): 
> 
> Allen Jones - 2p!America  
> Matt Williams - 2p!Canada  
> Luciano Vargas - 2p!Italy  
> Lovina Vargas - nyo!Romano  
> Lutz Beilschmidt - 2p!Germany  
> Julchen Beilschmidt - nyo!Prussia  
> Santiago Fernandez Carriedo - 2p!Spain  
> Kiku Honda - 1p!Japan  
> Jean-Henri Bonnefoy - 2p!France  
> Oliver Kirkland - 2p!England  
> Anya Braginsky - nyo!Russia


	9. Of Valentine's and Chocolate Cake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> According to Alfred, chocolate was a must-have for Valentine's. Apparently, that was the perfect way to ask someone out. GerIta, High School AU.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous submitted: "Could you please do Gerita for #10 please?"
>
>> 10\. high school popular kid/nerd au

Ludwig closed his locker with a quiet thunk as the warning bell for second period rang. He adjusted his glasses and tucked the necessary supplies under his arm as he headed into Home Ec, taking his seat at the front center and watching as the rest of his classmates trickled in before the bell. 

Gaudy heart cutouts in red, white, and pink decorated the walls of the class, and little Cupids with bows and heart arrows hung from the ceiling, lazily turning in the air conditioning’s draft. The entire school looked that way, reminding everyone who had to suffer through seven or more hours a day in the building that Valentine’s Day was this weekend. Banners and posters were also up to advertise for the Valentine’s Sweethearts Dance, which was on Friday. 

It was currently Thursday. 

Ludwig still hadn’t found the courage to ask his crush to the dance. Gilbert wouldn’t stop laughing at him about it, which wasn’t helping at all. Even less helpful was his suggestions at how to go about asking, which, frankly, were embarrassing just to think about. Ludwig was not going to stand on a lunch table with a megaphone and “shout to the heavens” his desire to go to the dance with Feliciano Vargas. 

The Vargas family was probably one of the richest families in the city, if not the entire state. They were a long line of wealth, status, and great fashion sense, and everyone wanted to be friends with them. The youngest inheritors to the Vargas fortune and prestige currently were brothers Lovino, who’d graduated two years ago and was currently studying the culinary arts, and Feliciano, a Senior at the academy and one of the most popular students in their graduating class. 

Ludwig was low on the social totem pole in comparison, practically invisible behind his glasses and button ups and sweaters. He studied too much and had straight As and preferred reading over partying and basically was not allowed to even so much as look in Feliciano’s direction, much less want to ask him to the Valentine’s Sweethearts Dance. 

Even just thinking it felt like some sort of taboo thing, and Ludwig shifted in his seat as the teacher called the class to order. He kept his eyes on his table as the instructions for the day were handed out, avoiding looking at the decorations and banners that mocked him everywhere he went.

As if someone as popular as Feliciano Vargas would ever want to go anywhere with a wallflower like Ludwig. 

The seat next to him was moved, pulling him out of his thoughts and back to the present. He looked over to see Alfred sitting down beside him, letting his bag fall to the floor as they headed to get what was needed for the class period. They were making desserts with chocolate in the spirit of the holiday.

“Hey, Lud! You’re kinda quiet today, man. I mean, I know you aren’t exactly the loudest guy here, but you seem more broody than usual.” 

Ludwig shrugged, carrying bowls back to their table. “I’m fine, Alfred.” 

Alfred gave him a look that said he didn’t believe him. “Right,” he drawled. “That’s why you were staring off into space looking like someone kicked your dog. Because you’re ‘fine’.” 

Ludwig pushed his glasses up his nose as they set out what they needed for their five-ingredient chocolate cake. “I don’t brood when someone kicks my dog.” It had only happened once, and it had been an accident, but Ludwig was extremely protective of his dogs.

Alfred laughed, shaking his head. “No, you get angry and yell at them in German,” he agreed. 

They concentrated on the recipe for a while, each of them working on a section of it to cut down on prep time. Ludwig worked on the actual cake portion while Alfred put together the topping and sauce, and it was quiet between them, the soft chatter from the rest of the class as background noise. 

When their cake was in the oven to bake, Alfred broke the silence. 

“So what’s up, Lud?” He slumped back in his seat, kicking his feet onto the table. “You got something on your mind, I can tell.” 

Ludwig sighed, turning away from his friend. Alfred meant well, he knew, but it wasn’t like it was a big deal. He turned his gaze to the rest of the class, watching his classmates fixing their own choices of desserts. His eyes lingered on the auburn head of his crush; Feliciano was smiling and laughing with Elizaveta as they worked, completely oblivious to the longing look trained on him. 

Alfred followed his gaze, and then snorted. “Dude, you really just gotta ask him already,” he said. 

Ludwig turned a glare on him. “No.” 

“Why not?” Alfred sat up, putting his feet back on the floor. “You just plan to stare at him from afar for the rest of your high school life? What kind of plan is that?” 

“I  _can’t,”_ Ludwig stressed, eyes going back to Feliciano. “He’s…” 

“He’s what?” Alfred asked, rolling his eyes. “Popular? Rich? Comes with the Vargas name, dude. But that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t talk to you if you actually grew some balls and made a move. Feli’s actually pretty cool, regardless of his family.” 

That was true. Ludwig had shared many classes with Feliciano throughout high school, and they’d been partnered for projects many times. Feliciano talked to him easily enough, chatting about this and that and just generally filling whatever silence followed Ludwig with life and noise. They even shared the same lunch period most times, and sometimes Feli would come say hi and talk about what they were doing in Home Ec and ask him about his favorite foods and his hobbies and his dogs . It was nice. 

“Well, what about you?” Ludwig diverted, hoping this conversation could come to an end. “You still haven’t asked Kirkland, have you?” 

“Hey,” Alfred warned, pointing a finger in his face, “I’m at least talking to him -”

“ _Arguing_ ,” Ludwig coughed under his breath, but Alfred ignored him. 

“- and that’s more than you’re doing, buddy.” Alfred leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “Seriously, though. Feli wouldn’t turn you down. You really should ask him out.” 

“How do you know?” 

Alfred shrugged, giving him a smile that Ludwig couldn’t figure out the meaning of. “Just trust me, man,” he said, patting Ludwig on the arm. “Ask him.” 

Ludwig didn’t reply right away, pursing his lips and sitting back. He looked back over at Feliciano and Elizaveta putting the finishing touches on their dessert, watching them whisper to each other. 

“I’m really awkward with words,” he finally said sometime later, which was an understatement. At least where feelings came into the picture. 

“That you are,” Alfred agreed, and Ludwig frowned at him. “So why don’t you ask him in a way that you don’t epically fail in?” 

Ludwig rolled his eyes. Helpful. “And what way would that be? Yelling at him?” He was good at yelling. 

Alfred hummed in thought, tilting his head side to side while he did so, as if to help him think better. He looked over to the ovens, staring at them for a moment before sitting upright and grinning. He turned back to Ludwig and grabbed him by the shoulders. 

“Dude! You could bake him something!” Alfred exclaimed, as if he’d just figured out the secret to solving world hunger. 

Ludwig blinked at him, uncomprehending. “What?” 

“It’s perfect, Lud!” Alfred punched the air in front of him in victory. “You’re great at baking! Ask anyone, they’ll agree,” he said said quickly, before Ludwig could interrupt to tell him that, no, his baking was mediocre at best. “Besides, with it being Valentine’s and all, it’d be like getting him flowers but  _edible!_  And who doesn’t love food, am I right?” 

Ludwig was sure Alfred had lost his mind, but it made a strange sort of sense. People gave the ones they liked gifts as signs of affection, and food was just as good as other material objects - better, even. And he knew Feliciano liked to eat, if seeing him eat nearly everything in their shared Home Ec class was anything to go by. 

“I guess I could do that,” Ludwig said slowly, still unsure. “But what would I make?” 

Alfred shrugged. “I know I’m always a slut for chocolate,” he said with a wink. “Can’t go wrong there. It’s like a Valentine’s must.” 

Ludwig nodded, smiling. “Then I guess I will do that.” He paused as a thought occurred to him. “Um,  _when_ should I do it?” 

Alfred looked back over at the ovens. “Well, considering tomorrow’s the dance, and we  _just_ made a kickass chocolate cake…” He turned back to Ludwig. “I’d say at lunch today with our cake.” 

Well.  _Scheisse._

Ludwig inhaled deeply, breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth like he’d been taught when he felt the urge to hit Alfred over the head. That wouldn’t help anything. Probably. 

“Okay,” he said, huffing out a breath. “Okay. I can do that. Maybe.” 

Alfred slapped him on the shoulder, standing as the timer on their oven went off. “You got this, man! Don’t worry so much!” 

Right. Don’t worry. Ludwig was only planning to ask out  _the most popular boy_  in their class  _with a five-ingredient cake._  Nothing to worry about at all. 

Ludwig forced his growing anxiety down by concentrating on finishing the cake, making sure the sauce to pour over it was still warm and gooey, and that the whipped topping was nice and stiff before placing a dollop on the cake. At the last second, he grabbed the sauce again and, using a spoon, added decoration along the plate like he saw on every cooking show ever. 

Hm. Maybe people were onto something when they called him a nerd. 

They got their utensils and dishes into the sink for cleaning when the bell rang, and Alfred waved as he headed to his next period. Ludwig finished cleaning up their table and gathered his things, carefully keeping the plate close to his chest as he headed to the cafeteria for the first lunch period. He found his usual table, empty of Kiku who was on Student Council and helping with the dance preparations, sitting on the edge of his seat as he watched the hall for his crush. 

Sure enough, Feliciano bounced into the cafeteria behind Elizaveta and Roderich, talking a mile a minute. He was smiling brightly, and Ludwig felt his heart leap at the sight. Feli always had a smile for everyone, and it was addictive to look at. He tore his eyes away and looked down at the cake in front of him, hands running along the edge of the plate nervously. This was a bad idea.

“ _Ciao,_ Ludwig! What do you have there?  _Ooh,_ is that the cake you made today?!” 

Ludwig’s head snapped up at Feliciano’s greeting, watching him as he bent over the table to look at the dessert. He felt a split-second of panic -  _no, he wasn’t ready for Feli to see it_  - but sat immobile as Feliciano pulled the cake closer to himself. 

“Oh! You even decorated the plate! How cool!” Feliciano smiled at him then looked back down at the cake, and Ludwig noticed immediately when his eyes caught the extra decoration on the plate. “Ah! What’s…?” 

Ludwig watched in morbid embarrassment as Feliciano turned the plate so he could read what Ludwig had written, and Ludwig felt the bottom of his stomach drop in fear as Feliciano stilled. He flushed red in the face, and he wanted to hide under the table. Or, better yet, to be swallowed by a hole in the floor. 

“I, uh…” Ludwig coughed, twisting his fingers together as Feliciano slowly looked up at him with large eyes. “I’m. Um. I’m not, uh, good with words,” he stuttered, trying to explain. “Speaking them, I mean. To people.” He cringed. If there had been any doubt, there certainly wasn’t now. 

Feliciano was quiet for a long moment, just staring wide-eyed at him, and Ludwig dropped his eyes to the table, staring at his hands. This had been a bad idea, and now Feli was probably thinking about the nicest way possible to let him down and refuse and  _oh my god why did I listen to Alfred never listen to Alfred oh my god—_

A hand moved into his vision, lifting his chin up and Ludwig met amber eyes shining with happiness and humor. 

“Ludwig,” Feliciano laughed, “I’ve been flirting with you for almost three years now.” 

Ludwig could only stare in disbelief, not quite understanding the words. “What.”  _He’s been flirting with me for_ three years?  _What._

Feli laughed again, smiling widely. “Of course, silly! I mean, I love dogs, but I don’t ask everyone about theirs, you know?” He winked, and Ludwig felt his cheeks get warmer. 

“But seriously,” Feli continued, dropping his hand on top of Ludwig’s, pulling one to himself and threading their fingers together. “I was starting to worry that you just weren’t interested, and ignoring it was your way of telling me no. I’m glad you really just didn’t notice.” 

Ludwig was still staring at their hands, a loop of  _he’s holding my hand Feliciano Vargas is holding my hand_  playing through his head. He finally looked up, seeing the smile on Feliciano’s face, and managed a small smile back. 

“I, uh. Yeah.” Ludwig wasn’t sure what to say now. He really wasn’t good with words. 

“You, Ludwig Beilschmidt,” Feliciano stated, standing from his side of the table and coming around to sit by Ludwig, leaning in close until their noses were almost touching, “are a very cute awkward potato.” 

He grinned, quickly leaving a kiss on Ludwig’s cheek. “And I’d love to go to the dance with you.” 

Ludwig felt a smile tugging at his lips despite the overwhelming feelings of relief and joy filling his chest, and he reached out to pull the cake closer to them for lack of any better response. Feliciano reached out, smearing his finger through the chocolate  _Feli go to the_ written on the plate circumference, and Ludwig followed his example by dragging his finger through the  _dance with me?_ part. 

“What made you decide to ask with the cake?” Feliciano asked, licking the chocolate from his finger. 

Ludwig sucked the chocolate from his own finger, pulling out forks from his bag and handing one to Feliciano. “Someone told me chocolate was a must-have for Valentine’s,” he replied. “And also that food was better than flowers.” 

Feliciano giggled and nodded. “Well, they weren’t wrong!” 

Ludwig agreed. 

Maybe Alfred knew what he was talking about after all. Maybe. 


	10. Recommended For You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Before all the fame and hype, before the tour dates and the travelling, before he became a celebrity, Castiel discovered Dean Winchester by accident, looking up covers of his favorite songs on YouTube. Dean's was just one of many under the "Recommended for you." Destiel, AU.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [catarinabennett](http://catarinabennett.tumblr.com) submitted: "33 with Destiel please :)"
>
>> 33\. celebrity/fan au

The day started out like any other Thursday.

Castiel woke to his alarm at five-thirty, lying in bed for another ten minutes while he convinced himself that he didn’t actually want to stay in bed, then pushed himself up to go to the bathroom. He showered, shaved, and dressed in jeans and a button-up, standing in front of the mirror and running a hand through his hair before giving up and shrugging into his coat. He grabbed his keys, wallet, and bag and, at ten ‘til seven, left his small flat.

Breakfast was coffee and a danish at the little café across from campus. He hummed along to the music quietly playing on the radio and spent the next hour and a half in the seat by the window, going over his notes for the upcoming tests in both his Ethical Theory and Intermediate Latin classes, and reading the next chapters for his World Religions and Film Criticism classes.

Alfie, the morning barista, kept his coffee full and made light conversation when he came over, and Meg came in and complained to him about her professors before her eight o’ clock class started. He listened with half an ear like usual, and she left with a quick kiss to his cheek five minutes after she was supposed to be in class.

His phone alarm went off at quarter to nine and Castiel smiled at Alfie as he got his to-go coffee and left for class. Balthazar caught up to him in time for them to walk in together, taking their seats on the far left of the room. He was already speaking a mile a minute as they waited for the professor, and Castiel leaned back against the wall, checking his texts from Hannah, who was going to visit over the upcoming break, and ignoring the ones from Gabriel.

“... though I don’t know why the woman thought it was a good idea. Ghastly is what it was. Oh, and I heard that band you’re so obsessed with is coming to the event center next weekend. What’s their name again?”

Castiel was still staring down at the messages on his phone, but he’d frozen in his seat as Balthazar’s words finally penetrated his brain. His heart beat quicker and the image of green eyes and freckles filled his mind. 

“Hunters’ Saving Grace?” Castiel replied, hoping he sounded casual and disinterested. It was pointless, though; his bag only had their logo on it and the background on his phone was only those same green eyes and freckles in the full face of the smiling lead singer. 

“That’s it!” Balthazar snapped. “KNGL is having a contest to give out floor seats and VIP backstage passes to lucky winners over the next week. Though no doubt you already have yours,” he smirked over at Castiel, waggling his eyebrows, “seeing as how it’s your boyfriend coming into town.” 

“Dean’s not my boyfriend,” Castiel muttered, tucking his phone away and dropping his bag on the floor as the professor walked in. 

Balthazar just snickered. “But you want him to be,” he pointed out. “Or am I mistaken in the recollection of you writing ‘Castiel Winchester’ over the entire inside cover of your diary?” 

Castiel glared down at his desk, pulling out his notebook, pen, and pencil as the professor began the lesson. “It was my physics notebook _,_ Balthazar. And it wasn’t the  _entire_ inside cover.” There had been space for two more repetitions. 

“Whatever you say, Cassie.” 

“I’ve never even met him,” Castiel protested in a whisper. “We are complete strangers,  _and_ he’s a celebrity. It’s not like there’s a potential relationship here.” 

“Doesn’t mean you don’t wish it would happen, Cassie.” Balthazar patted his arm. “You’ve practically been in love with the man since his debut.” 

Castiel sighed and dropped his head, not denying it. “He’s still a stranger,” he said lamely, and they fell silent for the rest of class. Castiel spent it doodling in the margins of his notebook and lightly tracing  _Cas Winchester_  over and over on the face of the desk with his pencil. 

What Balthazar didn’t know was that Castiel had discovered Dean Winchester years before the official debut of Hunters’ Saving Grace and that his feelings were a bit more than just a dedicated fan of a celebrity. 

Dean had actually started out as a cover artist on YouTube. He never made a big production of his talent; it was just him and his guitar singing for a camera, and every Tuesday and Friday he’d put up a new cover. Castiel had found him by chance; one of his covers had been in the “recommended for you” when he’d been searching for videos of some of his favorite songs and he’d clicked it, stumbling across a green-eyed young man with a charming country lilt to his soft, rumbling voice. 

Castiel had been captivated. The feeling and soul Dean put into his singing moved Castiel to his core, and Castiel sat for hours watching every single cover video Dean had ever posted, and even the vlogs Dean did every second Thursday of the month. He smiled when Dean talked about his brother or what was happening in the middle of Bumfuck, Nowhere, and he felt inspired by this man he didn’t even know. 

Dean wasn’t an arrogant man, that much Castiel could see from the videos - he sat tall but with a reserved air that spoke of an inner insecurity; his voice was strong but so, so sad, like he didn’t think it was worth hearing. It was all reinforced the Thursday Dean did a comment reading video, where he responded to the people who left comments on his covers. Castiel would scroll through them on occasion, and everyone seemed to have his opinion that Dean was a wonderful singer that should really think about going professional. But Dean didn’t share that opinion, and it broke Castiel’s heart to hear him say he really wasn’t that good, and who would want to listen to an entire album of his anyway? 

Up until that day, Castiel had never left a comment of his own, but he felt he needed to. He told Dean, this man he didn’t know, that he’d never known someone as great or talented as him. He told Dean how much he was admired by everyone who heard him, and how much Dean inspired him to want to find his own talents and pursue them like Dean did. He was amazed by Dean, and he encouraged him to start seeing his talents as worthy, because  _Dean_ was worthy. 

Castiel hadn’t thought Dean would even see his comment, and he was surprised when he saw a private message later that week from Dean himself, thanking him for his comment and how much it meant to him to know someone could feel so strongly about a stranger with self-confidence issues. 

Castiel responded with his honest feelings of being happy to have made Dean happy and more encouragement, and suddenly he was talking to Dean on a fairly regular basis through private messaging, moving from YouTube to Facebook to Skype. They talked about everything, from dreams and aspirations to hobbies to favorite movies and food to home life and family. 

Castiel told Dean about his many siblings, how he was one of the youngest and always the one to break up fights and squabbles. He told Dean about wanting to travel the world and study cultures because he was fascinated with humanity. He told Dean that he liked to read Kerouac and listen to the thunder during storms and his favorite music ranged from Panic! At the Disco to Led Zeppelin. 

Dean told him about Sam, his pride and joy of a little brother, and how he’d had to raise them both after their parents passed away before being taken in by a family friend. He told Castiel about how smart Sammy was and how the kid was going to be a lawyer and make something of himself one day. He told Castiel that he sang to escape from the world because that was the only way he could express what he was feeling. He told Castiel he would love to sing professionally, and that he actually wrote original music when it rained because it always inspired him. 

He encouraged Dean to record some of his original music and Dean let him be the first to listen to it. 

Dean called him “Cas” and it made his heart race.  

That was all two years ago now, and since then Dean had been noticed by several producers. He’d put up some of his original music online on more encouragement from Castiel and it was all an immediate hit. Dean had been personally approached by his current producer, a man by the name of Crowley, and met who would eventually come to be the rest of the members of Hunters’ Saving Grace: guitarist Benny LaFitte, bassist Joanna Harvelle, and drummer Aaron Bass. 

Castiel didn’t talk to Dean much after that, but whenever they could find the time, Dean was always telling him about life getting to share the songs that told people who he was, that encouraged and inspired others to fight for their own dreams. He told stories about the places he was visiting, about the people he was meeting, and Castiel could feel the happiness in every message. He was so proud of Dean, this man he’d discovered online with nothing but a camera and guitar and who he’d never met, and always made sure to say so. 

Dean still sent him original music sometimes; Castiel had an entire playlist of nothing but Dean’s songs that he’d listen to when he was sitting quietly and watching the lightning during a storm, wondering if it had looks as beautiful during the storms Dean had written his songs to. 

Castiel fell for a man behind a screen with a voice with a country lilt and it was killing him every day. 

Thankfully, Balthazar didn’t mention Castiel’s unrequited crush or the upcoming concert the rest of the day, and Castiel was free to hopelessly pine after Dean and listen to his music in peace. He went to his classes and took notes, and joined Balthazar and Meg for lunch around noon back at the café, where Inias waited on them. Gabriel joined them around one before his own shift at the bakery down the street, and Castiel suffered his incessant teasing by glaring at his brother. Meg gossiped with Balthazar and Castiel sat quietly, eating his sandwich with more concentration than was really necessary. 

Gabriel gave him looks, but ultimately shrugged it off as his baby brother being weird, and Castiel was grateful. 

He made it back to his flat in one piece, though, and he spent the rest of his day working on homework. He ordered in for dinner, curling up on his hand-me-down sofa with  _Cat’s Cradle_  and his lo mein, and listened to Dean’s soft lilt as he lost himself in reading. 

As Balthazar had said, the radio station they frequented was indeed giving away front row seating and VIP passes for the upcoming Hunters’ Saving Grace concert, one of their stops on their debut tour. Castiel listened to callers attempt to be the tenth caller and win whatever quiz or trivia game the hosts had them play while debating whether or not to call in himself to see if he could win, but eventually decided against it. 

He didn’t want to seem as desperate to meet Dean as he was. Dean didn’t need another obsessed stranger that he sometimes talked to hindering him in life. 

The Thursday before the concert, Castiel came home from his World Religions class to find a package tucked into the letterbox. It was more a padded manila envelope than a “package”, but it still stumped him. He hadn’t ordered anything that he could remember, and no one ever sent him mail, so he wasn’t sure what it could be. The return address was unfamiliar and sort of professional-looking, and he frowned as he brought it to his kitchen table and tossed it down. 

He put off opening it until he’d made dinner, and then, sitting with his vegetable soup and panini, he carefully slid his letter opener under the sealed flap. Inside, he found two tickets and a handwritten note. He set the note aside at first, looking over the tickets and nearly gasping when he realized they were for the concert, one being a seat ticket and the other a pass. 

Someone had sent him a front row seat and VIP backstage pass to his favorite band, where he could meet the man he’d fallen in love with somewhere between “ _Recommended for you”_  and “Hey, Cas, would you mind listening to something for me?” 

Hands shaking slightly, Castiel reached for the note, seeing his nickname -  _but who would know? No one but Dean calls me Cas_  - scrawled on one flap. He unfolded it, and found five words: 

_Hope to see you there. xoxo_

Castiel stared at the note, heart racing in his chest. He really didn’t want to get his hopes up - what if it was someone else, someone who just hadn’t bothered to write his whole name out? - but he couldn’t help thinking that it was Dean that wanted to see him at the concert, that Dean wanted to meet him. 

_Dean wants to see me. Dean wants to meet me._

_I can meet Dean._

Castiel didn’t sleep that night, nor the next, too anxious about the weekend and the concert. Balthazar teased him about the tickets but Castiel paid it no mind, too apprehensive of the fact that _I’m going to meet Dean Winchester I’m going to meet the man I’ve been in love with for almost two years now_ and trying not to throw up. His nerves were high, and Castiel couldn’t concentrate on anything in his classes. Friday itself passed in a blur; he went through the day on autopilot, barely hearing anything his friends said and his attention all over the place in his mind. 

Saturday, Castiel remained at home for the morning and afternoon, curled up with his iPod on the sofa and the tv playing some reality game show that he ignored. He forced down a turkey sandwich for lunch despite the rolling of his stomach, and spent nearly two hours standing in front of his closet going through his clothes for something to wear. He finally decided on jeans and a button up, the normalcy bringing him a moment of calm, and he left twenty minutes before he really needed to, even to be early. 

The event center was filling up when Castiel arrived, and he parked nearly three blocks away so he wouldn’t have to fight for space. The evening was warm, the sun just beginning to set on the horizon as he walked to the center. He smiled at the smell of rain on the air, and wondered what Dean would be inspired to write this time. 

The view from the floor was incredible, and Castiel was amazed that he was standing right in front of the stage, right where Dean would be performing. The center was filled with loud chatter and excited squeals as friends and families and fans found their seats, buying merchandise and overpriced soda and nachos. Castiel put in the earplugs Gabriel had given him, telling him they’d help in the prevention of his hearing loss (with no loss to the overall experience of the concert) and sat in his seat, watching the stage crew setting up for Hunters’ Saving Grace. 

Castiel jumped slightly when the lights went down and the room screamed, and he looked up at the stage as a sole spotlight was trained on a lone figure. The screaming increased in volume, and Castiel’s breath caught when Dean looked up at the room, a grin on his face as he grabbed the microphone in front of him. 

“ _Carry on my wayward son;  
There’ll be peace when you are done!”_

The crowd roared as Dean sang the opening lines of one of his more popular covers, and Castiel smiled along with him. 

“ _Lay your weary head to rest;  
don’t you cry no more!”_

Dean danced along as he sang, and Castiel watched him move with wide eyes fixed on every sway of his hips, of every toss of his head. Dean was even more beautiful in person, the lights of the stage highlighting the blond of his hair and making his freckles stand out against his cheeks. The green of his eyes sparkled when he bent down at the edge of the stage to sing directly to the front row, and Castiel felt himself holding his breath when Dean winked at him as he passed. 

Dean sang through five more songs back to back, engaging with the front of the crowd and his band mates as he got more and more into the performance. Castiel sang along, bobbing his head along, and actually really enjoying himself, despite the fact that his crush was literally ten feet in front of him at any given moment. He pushed that all aside to lose himself in the music.  

When the set ended, Dean was breathing heavily as the crowd cheered, leaning against the mic stand and gazing out at his fans with such an awestruck expression Castiel was reminded of that shy man he’d seen on a computer screen, singing for people through a camera. 

“And how are we all doing tonight?!” Dean asked, and the crowd cheered again. He laughed, wiping sweat from his brow. “That’s great, guys! Man, it’s so nice to be back home, let me tell ya!” 

Castiel was surprised. Dean hadn’t ever mentioned where he was from, and to know Dean was from his hometown was something that seemed too good to be true. 

“Anyway!” Dean grabbed a water bottle provided to him, taking a large drink before setting it aside. “Those were some covers that are really highly requested. Like seriously, I probably had people asking me to sing those twenty times a day.” 

The crowd laughed along with him. 

“But right now,” he continued, and Castiel watched him walk across the stage and grab a guitar, coming to sit on a stool the crew had brought out. “Right now, we’re gonna slow it down a bit, and I’m gonna sing you guys some original songs I’ve been working on.” 

Dean put his guitar on and adjusted the mic, smiling out at the crowd as he took a breath and leaned in to sing. 

“ _Every time you kiss me,  
it’s like sunshine and whiskey.”_

Castiel smiled, closing his eyes to let the country lilt wash over him. He’d always loved Dean’s more country songs, the way his voice shaped around the words like a caress. 

“ _I’m hard to love, hard to love; no, I don’t make it easy._  
_I couldn’t do it if I stood where you stood._  
_I’m hard to love, hard to love; you say that you need me._  
_I don’t deserve it but I love that you love me good.”_  

Except Castiel found it easy as breathing to love Dean Winchester. 

“ _I never knew the art of making love;  
No my heart aches with love for you.”_

Castiel hadn’t heard this one before, but he felt it in his soul as Dean sang of missing out on the chance for love. 

 _Afraid and shy I let my chance go by;_  
_The chance that you might love me too.”_

Castiel felt his heart drop. Of course Dean had someone he was thinking of that wasn’t him. Why would Dean bother with a stranger he didn’t even know?

After a couple more songs, Dean sat back, breathing through his nose and smiling. His forehead shone with sweat, and his shirt was darkened around his neck and arms. Castiel thought he was temptation personified. 

“Okay, so this next song is actually really special,” Dean said into the mic, and the crowd cheered and whooped. Dean shook his head fondly, adjusting himself and his guitar on the stool. “You guys have no chill. Zero chill up in here, I swear.” 

The crowd laughed, and Dean waggled his eye brows. “Anyway. This one... This one gave me a lot of trouble writing it. I needed it to be perfect, because it’s for a very special, perfect person.

“As you all know, I started out on the internet, singing covers of the greats on YouTube like any proper aspiring artist.” Dean grinned at the applause, raising his hand to quiet the crowd. “And while I enjoyed it, I never actually considered going professional with it. I wanted to, but I didn’t think I could. As surprising as it may be, I don’t actually have a lot of confidence in myself all the time - I know, shocking.” 

The crowd aww’d and clapped more, and Dean looked away shyly. 

“Yeah, yeah. I know I’m adorable. Anyway, it wasn’t until I received this one comment on one of my vlog vids that I actually started thinking that maybe I could do this.” Here, Dean chuckled, blinking like he still couldn’t believe it. 

Castiel’s heart was racing again, and he felt himself twisting his fingers together.  _It couldn’t be... He’s not talking about...?_

 _“_ I figured, if some stranger on the internet can take the time out of their day to tell me they’re proud of me and that I’m good enough, without even knowing me, then maybe I can be proud of myself, too. 

“So, we started talking, and I got to know this guy, this stranger, who put all of himself into encouraging me to go after my dream of sharing my passion with the world like I wanted to. I learned he’s got a big family that he’s the baby in, that he loves learning about people and cultures, that he prefers alternative indie pop to classic rock which is a real shame because up until then he was really cool.” 

Dean laughed along with the crowd, and Castiel felt his face heat up as he remembered that conversation, how Dean tried to convince him Fall Out Boy was not real music and that Metallica reigns supreme. All he could do was stare at Dean as Dean told their story to a crowd of five thousand people. 

“Nah, he’s still cool.” Dean smiled shyly. “I don’t actually get to talk to him much anymore now that I’m always on the road, and I’m really sad about that. He was the only one besides my little brother Sam that made me feel like I deserved to be here up on stage in front of thousands of people. He’s my best friend, and even having never met, I don’t know what I’d do without him. 

“In fact, I sent him a seat ticket and pass, so I’m hoping he’s here tonight.” Dean looked along the front row of the crowd, presumably for Castiel, and Castiel ducked his head. Not that Dean would know what he looked like, but he couldn’t bring himself to look Dean in the eye and be passed over. 

“Anyway, enough outta me.” Dean shuffled around again, swinging his guitar back into his lap and adjusting the mic again. “Let’s finish this gig. If you’re out there tonight, this one’s for you, Cas. Thank you for believing in me when I couldn’t find a reason to myself.” 

Castiel bit his lip. His name on Dean’s lips was better than he’d thought it’d be. 

And then Dean began singing. 

_“My gift is my song  
and this one’s for you.”_

Castiel looked up at Dean, eyes wide as he sang softly, gently, as if he was talking to a lover. His heart beat heavily in his chest, and Castiel felt tears in his eyes as Dean sang to him -  _him_  - tenderly, with a grin on his face and his eyes shining. 

“ _And you can tell everybody this is your song._  
_It may be quite simple but now that it's done;_  
_I hope you don't mind, I hope you don't mind that I put down in words_  
_How wonderful life is while you're in the world.”_

The crowd stood as Dean finished and bowed, and the lights came back on as the band exited the stage. Castiel remained in his seat as the center began clearing out of those who didn’t have passes to meet the band backstage, and once the way was clear, Castiel was led to stand with approximately twenty other people who were lucky enough to have either won or purchased passes of their own. He was still in a daze, cheeks warm and legs unsteady as he waited to come face to face with Dean. 

He stood at the back of the group as the band came out, and he kept out of the way as the other fans squealed and converged, asking for hugs and autographs. Dean was swamped immediately, but he handled it well, smiling and hugging and posing for pictures with each person. He truly cared about his fans, and it warmed Castiel to see him interact with them. 

Castiel was still smiling when Dean turned and met his eyes, and time seemed to melt away as they stared at each other. Oh, but his eyes were so green this close, Castiel couldn’t help but think, and he bit his lip as Dean made his way over through the other fans. He stopped right in front of Castiel, still staring, as if he wanted to memorize what he was seeing. 

Castiel finally found it in him to move, and he reached into his pocket, pulling out the note Dean had sent with the tickets and holding it up. 

“You’re the only one who calls me Cas, did you know?” he said, and he had to clear his throat. 

Dean smiled wide, full of white teeth and so much happiness it nearly took what little breath Castiel had left. He took Castiel’s hand, folding the note between them as he curled their fingers together and squeezed. 

“I plan for it to stay that way,” Dean said, stepping closer. “If you want?” 

Castiel could only nod, swallowing as he felt Dean’s body warmth seep into him. 

Dean chuckled, bringing his other hand up to caress along Castiel’s cheek. “Two years and it feels like I’ve known you forever, Cas. It’s nice to finally meet you,” 

“The pleasure’s all mine, Dean,” Castiel said, and then he couldn’t speak for Dean’s lips on his, the urgency to be closer,  _closer get closer_  and the thought that  _I’m kissing Dean Winchester and Dean Winchester is kissing me back._

When they pulled apart, it was to coos and cheers from the fans still around them, and Castiel felt himself go hot from embarrassment, though he could do nothing but smile up at Dean. 

Dean grinned back, holding him around the waist. “So. I hear you found me on YouTube.” 

Castiel just laughed, pulling Dean down into another kiss. “You came highly recommended.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song lyrics used: 
> 
> _Carry On Wayward Son_ \- Kansas  
>  _Sunshine and Whiskey_ \- Frankie Ballard  
>  _Hard to Love_ \- Lee Brice  
>  _You Don't Know Me_ \- Michael Grimm  
>  _Your Song_ \- Elton John


	11. A Good Idea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pretending to be Bones' boyfriend while they visit Bones' family for break sounded like a good idea at the time. Jim's heart is still out on the verdict, though it looks pretty promising. McKirk, Academy AU.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [mockingatticus](http://mockingatticus.tumblr.com) submitted: "7. Fake relationship Mckirk I'm ALWAYS A SLUT FOR FAKE RELATIONSHIPS turned preslashy turned hardcore sexy realizations of longtime love"
>
>> 7\. fake relationship au

It had sounded like a good idea at the time, he swears. 

Jim had actually been doing his homework that night, of all things. He was stuffed up in his dorm room, curled up on his bed with his padds spread out around him and his glasses slipping down his nose. Pike had been on his ass about needing to be More Responsible and Jim had moaned and whined while his advisor just looked on unimpressed until Jim had finally given in and moaned all the way back to his dorm to start those essays and projects he still hadn’t done. 

Not like he wouldn’t have done them anyway. Eventually. The morning before.

Anyway, he was actually doing something productive with his time when the door slid open and in stumbled Bones, grumbling to himself like usual, yanking open the buttons on his jacket and tossing it aside before flopping down into his desk chair and running his hands through that thick hair Jim admittedly fantasized about when it was just him and Little Jimmy. 

(Not that Bones knew that, of course. That would be... awkward.) 

Jim just ignored his grumpy doctor of a roommate in favor of the essay he was working on. This was their normal routine, something that had quickly become just the way things were as soon as Bones had opened the door to his single room to find a smiling Jim leaning against it and telling him they were roommates. Jim had let him get his grumpy southern grumbling out of the way and they’d been best friends ever since. 

(Sure, somewhere along the way Jim had noticed it was a little more than just  _friendship_  on his end, but hey - Bones was hot and kind and never took any of his shit, so who could blame him?)

That night, however, the routine was disturbed and Jim found himself totally thrown off-balance when Bones turned to him suddenly and said, 

“Jim, I need you to be my boyfriend.” 

Jim blinked at him, processing the words. “Uh. What.” 

Bones stood from the chair, crossing his arms and pacing back and forth in the small space at the end of their beds. He ran a hand through his hair again, looking put out. 

“My mama,” he started, his drawl telling Jim that his roommate was Really Annoyed with the woman who gave birth to him, “doesn’t know how to keep her damn nose outta other peoples’ private business, is what.” 

Jim waited and, when Bones didn’t elaborated, asked, “Okay, so... what does that have to do with you needing me to be your boyfriend? Not that you’re not a total catch, Bonesy,” he grinned at the glare Bones sent him, “but this is really sudden. I didn’t even know you felt that way about me!” 

(He tried to get his heart to stop beating so hard in his chest at the thought that Bones would ever want him  _that way.)_

“Shut up, Jim,” Bones retorted, sitting on the foot of his bed. “Mama wants me home for break - practically  _demanded_ it - and being home with the family means unwanted interrogations into my life and possibly random estranged aunts and uncles tryin’ ta set me up because ‘you’re so young, Leonard! You need someone in your life!’” 

Jim couldn’t help but laugh at Bones’ impressions of his family members, and he nearly fell off his bed with how hard he was laughing. Bones just huffed and Jim could practically  _feel_ his eyes rolling. 

“Yeah, laugh it up, you infant,” Bones muttered. “You wouldn’t be guffawing if you had to deal with it at every family event. Mama isn’t so bad, but she can’t stop the talkative nature of a Southern Socialite.” 

Jim finally calmed down enough to look over at Bones, grinning widely and breathing heavily. “Still, Bones. What does this have to do with you needing me to play boyfriend?” (Because Jim was  _not_  looking forward to the thought. At all.)  

Bones shifted slightly, rubbing the back of his neck like he did when he was embarrassed. “Well, I mean, it’s not like you  _have to_ or anything, I just...” 

“Bones.” 

Bones sighed. “ _Fine._  Like I said, going to family events means I’m gonna get the third degree from all these people who want to know my business, and then I’m gonna get judgmental looks because they’re all gonna be thinking they’re better than me, or pitying looks because...” 

He trailed off, and Jim sat up. “So you want me to tag along so you can tell ‘em to shove it?” 

“You’re not a tool, Jim.” Bones gave him a stern look. 

“Yes I am, but that’s not what I meant.” Jim waved it off. “You want me there for support and so they can’t say that you’re a no-good waste of a man who’ll never accomplish anything in his life. Am I wrong?” 

Bones didn’t say anything, but that was answer enough. Jim stood, gathering his padds and laying a hand on his best friend’s shoulder. He gave Bones his most brilliant smile. “I’d love to be your boyfriend, Bonesy! It’ll be fine, and we can come back and drink it all away when it’s over! Nothing to worry about!” 

And now Jim’s standing in a room full of people he doesn’t know, feeling mildly out of place in his worn jeans and t-shirt. He’s got a glass of some fancy alcohol in his hand that really doesn’t taste all that great, and he’s getting disapproving looks from the high society side of Bones’ family. 

Nothing to worry about his left asscheek. 

Bones is beside him, forcing a smile as he listens to whichever relative has decided to talk to him. Jim just stands quietly, trying to seem as innocuous as possible. He sips at the god-awful champagne, grimacing behind his glass and hoping no one notices. 

As soon as Snobbish Relative walks away, Jim turns to whisper in Bones’ ear. “Jesus, Bones, you weren’t kidding about this.” He takes another sip of the champagne, makes a face, and lowers the glass. “Eugh, that’s nasty. How do you even drink this?” 

“I don’t,” Bones snorts, swirling the liquid in his own glass. Jim hides his snickers in his fist at the glare Bones sends to the drink. “But no, I wasn’t kiddin’, Jim. I don’t do that a lot, you’ll notice.” 

“Well,” Jim looks down into his own glass. “Not about this.” 

Bones harrumphs and rolls his eyes. “Thanks for doin’ this, though.” He wraps his arm around Jim’s waist as a couple of his aunts look over in their direction, burying his nose in Jim’s hair and speaking into his ear. Jim forces a smile and tries not to let Bones feel his pulse increase in speed. “This is actually a lot better than it usually is.” 

“What, they actually talk you to death?” Jim jokes, leaning against Bones and nudging him with his shoulder. 

Bones makes a sound of agreement and Jim sees the corner of his mouth curl up in that rare smile that never fails to send Jim’s heart racing. “It’s a miracle I’m alive today.” 

“Oh, Lenny! There you are!” 

Bones straightens, and Jim turns with him to see Eleanora McCoy approaching them, her smile tight-lipped and nearly looking down her small nose at Jim, though her eyes are warm as she looks at her boy. 

“Mama,” Bones greets, voice dripping with a sweet southern twang. He doesn’t let go of Jim as he leans down to kiss her cheek. “How’ve you been?” 

Eleanora waves her hand in a dismissive gesture. “Oh, you know me, Lenny. Just gettin’ by day to day.” 

“Makin’ front page and the center of all the gossip columns, hm?” 

“Exactly,” Eleanora winks, then turns to Jim. “So who’s this fine young man, Leonard?” she asks, eyeing him up. Jim suddenly feels small under her scrutiny, even though she’s a full head shorter than him. “You haven’t introduced him yet.” 

“Mama, this is Jim,” Bones says, pulling Jim closer. He keeps eye contact with her as he adds, “My boyfriend.” (Jim’s heart skips a beat again.)

Eleanora moves her eyes back to Jim, continuing her inspection. 

Jim shifts uncomfortably, smiling and giving a small wave. “Jim Kirk. Nice to meet you, Eleanora. I can certainly see where Bones gets his good looks.” 

She stares a moment longer before her lips curl up in a pleased smile and she reaches up to pat Jim on the cheek, laughing. “You’re a dear! I like him, Lenny.” 

Jim sees Bones smile again, and his eyes are shining tenderly as he looks over at Jim. Jim’s breath catches in his throat as Bones leans over and presses a kiss to his temple. “Yeah, me too, Mama. Me too.” 

Jim feels his cheeks heat and he looks away, a smile curling up his own lips, and Eleanora laughs again. “Oh, aren’t you two just precious! Well, I’ll leave you two be, now. I’m so glad you could make it home, Lenny!” 

“Glad I could too, Mama.” 

Bones leans down to hug Eleanora, and Jim is surprised when she pulls him into a hug as well. He’s even more surprised when she whispers in his ear, “You’re good for him, Jim. Don’t let him go like Jocelyn did.” 

Jim pulls back and nods, giving her a smile. “Sure thing, Eleanora.” 

“Oh, please, dear!” Eleanora pats his cheek again. “Call me Mama.” 

Jim laughs. “Okay, Mama.” And even if he never says so out loud, Jim admits it feels nice to have someone to call Mama again. 

“Go  _away_ , Mama,” Bones groans, rolling his eyes. “Stop tryna adopt every puppy-eyed infant that comes along.” 

“You’re the one that brought him home, Lenny,” Eleanora says as she walks away. “Have a nice evening, you two!” 

Jim’s still giggling as she leaves the living room for the kitchen, and he turns to Bones with a big grin on his face. “I like your mom. She’s cool.” 

“She’s infuriating, is what she is,” Bones scoffs, but his eyes are warm. He looks down at Jim, hugging him tighter with his arm. “But I love her.” 

“You’re lucky, Bones,” Jim says, grin fading and looking away. “I’m actually a little jealous.” 

Bones turns his head back, looking into Jim’s eyes. “Hey. You know I’m always here for ya, right? I ain’t leavin’ ya.” 

“I know, Bones,” Jim grins again. He takes Bones’ hand on his chin into his, locking their fingers together and giving a squeeze. “I know.” 

“And don’t you forget it,” Bones smiles and presses another kiss to Jim’s forehead. “Thank you, Jim.” 

“Anytime, Bones.” 

The rest of the evening passes uneventfully, though Bones’ relatives really do try to start shit. Bones just grins and ignores their pokes and prods and passes at his character, holding Jim close. Jim keeps a constant smile on his face as well, sipping at the awful champagne and making a face that makes Bones laugh at him every time. 

It’s actually really enjoyable. 

When they go to bed that night, after all the aunts and uncles and cousins who spent the night giving them dirty looks leave the house, Jim curls up beside Bones in his bed, listening to Bones’ heartbeat as he drifts off to sleep. Bones’ hand runs soothingly through his hair, and Bones hums a soft lullaby under his breath. 

The rest of their week off is spent lazing around the house or going down to the creek where they lay out a blanket and watch the clouds make shapes in the sky, then gaze at the stars once the sun sets. Jim points out constellations and planets, telling stories of the adventures he and Bones are gonna have once they’re out in the black. 

Bones grumbles some more about space being disease and danger and wraps Jim tighter in his arms and says that if Jim just  _has_ to go then he’s going too because he doesn’t trust anyone to take care of Jim like he can. 

Jim agrees, and he thinks that maybe this whole pretending to be Bones’ boyfriend thing really was a good idea after all. 

He decides it _definitely_ was when Bones leans over and kisses him deep and slow, and Jim thinks he can definitely get used to this.

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr: [leviathncas](http://leviathncas.tumblr.com)


End file.
